“Do you play cards at all?” he asks, his tone taking on a casual note.
“Nope.”
“You don’t?”
“Not with you.”
Chance throws his hands up into the air. “Seriously? Allie has got to learn to keep her mouth shut! What’s your name, sugar?”
I giggle. “Katie. Katie Quake.”
“Nice to meet you, Katie Quake.” He nods his head, almost bowing to me. His white shirt highlights his dark complexion, and his eyes are like chocolate. He has an easy-going smile, and I have zero clue how old he is.
But as strikingly handsome as he is, I don’t find myself weak in the knees or dying to kiss him. My hormones are behaving. I’m not dying to jump on any bones.
I take another sip. “I’m supposed to mingle, but it’s nice to meet you, Chance.” I turn to go and then turn back. “Oh my God. The drink. How much do I owe you for it?”
Not that I have money for it. Shit. What was I thinking?
“Allie brought you, so the first drink is on her. You’re good, Katie Quake.”
“Thank you very much.” I lift my glass to toast him, and I head over to the Grim Reaper side. Two women who look like they graduated from college a few years ago are sitting together, but it’s a group of four rowdy guys I find myself walking over toward.
“Everyone knows Houston is the far inferior Texas team,” a redhead says.
“Dallas chokes all the time,” another guy says. He has some major scruff on his face, way more than a five o’clock shadow but not enough to be considered a full mustache and beard.
"At least we have rings," a third guy says.
“The Cowboys haven’t won a ring since ’96,” I say. “When are you Cowboy fans going to stop living in the past?”
“Who the hell asked you?” the redhead asks me.
I grin at the guy with blond hair, the only one who hasn’t spoken up yet and who must be a Texans fan. “My name is Katie, and I guarantee you that Dallas won’t make the playoffs this year.”
The three guys all gang up on me, and I let them go for a bit before saying, “The Eagles are going to win your division.”
Now they really yell at me, and I just smile and laugh, loving that I’m so easily getting under their skin. The Washington Commanders are supposed to be the main division rival of the Dallas Cowboys, but their fans hate the Philadelphia Eagles just as much.
“Are you really a Houston fan?” the blond guy asks me.
“Yes, actually.”
“Houston has never even been to the Superbowl,” the redhead protests.
“Yes, but they got rid of Deshaun Watson after the whole scandal came out, and that he only was suspended for six games… That doesn’t sit right with me. Please, there’s something about rooting for the underdog, you know?”
The blond tries to get the others to lay off me, and they finally tell me their names and invite me to sit down with them. They ordered a pizza, and they let me have a slice. It’s a fun conversation, but after I eat the crust, I tell them I’ll see them around and finally make my way over to the two women. They’re a bit harder to crack, a bit more distrusting, and I wonder if they’re ones that Allie brought into the fold because of them needing to get away from their piece of shit husbands.
Sure enough, they start to talk about how their lives are just starting now that they’re divorced.
“Is it scary being out on your own after being married to someone?” I ask.
“Hell no,” Raven says. Her hair is as dark as her name suggests, but she assured me that her name truly is Raven.
“It must be nice to live in a world where you never experienced fear day in and day out,” Jessica says. “Trust me. We aren’t afraid. We’re thrilled.”
I just laugh and laugh. “I might not have been married and divorced, but it’s not just husbands who can be abusive.”